


Full

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Explicit Consent, First Time, Inflation, Laxatives, M/M, Pre-Canon, The Author Regrets Nothing, Victor is one of those adults The Discourse warned you about, Yuri comes unrealistically few times for a barely-fifteen-year-old, enema play, except all the wank that's gonna come my way oh god, mentions of disordered eating, oral enemas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 12:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10662942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Once, Victor walked in on a teenage Yuri who was trying to make himself puke in a toilet stall at the rink. Victor stops him and gives him the lecture of his life, telling him not to endanger his health and toask for helpif things get  bad.One Saturday night, Yuri does.A/N: This is exactly what the warnings and the tags say it is. Proceed at your own risk.





	Full

“You said to come to you,” Yuri mumbles, standing on Victor’s “Welcome” mat and looking down at his feet.

“Hnnn, I did. Come in.”

Victor watches him take off his hideous pleather shoes. Tiger pattern accent, bought two months ago but already cracking where they fold.

It’s Saturday night and Victor’s been watching TV, Makkachin’s head on one thigh and a tumbler of whiskey on the other. It’s not that the knock on his door was unwelcome. More like, when he’d found Yuri trying to make himself puke in a bathroom at the rink and had put a finger under his chin, shouting _what kind of idiot_ and _it’s_ _common_ _for skaters but_ and esophageal _damage—_ and finished it off with an offer—he hadn’t exactly expected to be taken up on it.

But Yuri _had_ taken him up on it—obviously. Which is how Victor finds himself in his living room, a scrawny fifteen-year-old padding after him in discolored socks with a hole in one toe.

Victor sits back on the couch and picks up his whiskey.

“So?” Victor says.

“I… yesterday night. I couldn’t help it.” Yuri stands to the side, looking anywhere but at Victor. “And I didn’t make myself puke, like you told me to, and I didn’t eat anything today but it’s still there and it wouldn’t go away...”

“Show me,” Victor says.

Yuri hikes his shirt up and holds it to his chest, blushing to the roots of his hair. Mortified is a good look on him. So is thin and pale, jeans almost falling off his hips, milky-white distended belly protruding over the belt that holds them up.

“Come over here.” Victor knows what that feels like. Full. Like a lump. And with all the shame and self-hatred, you can’t make it go away. It is, indeed, common for skaters. You need to keep your weight down. And there’s only so long before your body will take the double-whammy of starvation and excessive training before throwing a fit and making you eat half the fridge.

Victor’s particular downfall was pizza, and too much cheese...

He pulls Yuri so he stands between his open thighs. He puts one hand on the side of his waist. With the other, he palpates his distended belly. It’s smooth, and firm to the touch.

Yuri is biting on his lip and squeezing his eyes shut, blushing all the way down his neck, fingers clutching at the fabric of his sweatshirt.

A good look indeed.

Victor presses at the belly some more, then spreads his entire palm over it and rubs.

Yuri’s breath hitches.

“You did well, coming to me.” He can’t help the smirk that spreads on his face. “Stay right here. I’ll be back.”

Victor gets up and puts his slippers on. The noise of the soles as they slap on the living room tiles echoes in the empty apartment. A cupboard door clanks, then a glass pitcher hits the kitchen counter.

Victor pops off the lid of his magnesium sulphate and measures three heaping tablespoons. Then he adds three glasses of water.

White crystals dissolve as Victor stirs. He licks the spoon when he takes it out, by habit. It tastes familiar. Bitter.

He brings the mixture to the living room. Yuri’s standing exactly where Victor left him—good boy—but his sweatshirt is now down, covering his stomach.

Victor measures out a glass and hands it over. “Drink.”

Yuri takes a sip. “This tastes disgusting.”

“It’s easier if you gulp it down all at once.”

Yuri takes a deep breath and looks at the glass in suspicion, one arm protectively wrapped around his belly.

“You can hold your nose,” Victor offers, sitting on the couch and shrugging one shoulder.

Yuri glares at him under his bangs and presses his lips together. Then he nods, resolved.

“Hmmm, good,” Victor rumbles, watching his Adam’s apple bob. Except-

“Stop.” He puts a hand on Yuri’s arm, the one who holds the glass.

Yuri swallows the last of the mixture and makes a face, but looks at him nonetheless.

“Lose the sweatshirt,” Victor says.

Yuri keeps looking.

“I need to know how much you’ve had, don’t I. Whether it’s enough.”

Yuri looks at him some more. Then he nods. His glass clinks as it hits the coffee table.

The baggy sweatshirt lands on the floor.

Victor surveys the pale chest, the protruding clavicles. The little divot they make in the middle. Yuri’s pink nipples, as they pebble with the cold.

He could be imagining it—it’s only been the half glass—but Yuri’s stomach looks a little bigger now.

“Come here,” Victor says and makes Yuri stand between his open legs again. “Now drink the rest.”

Yuri takes large gulps. Victor listens to the little noises his throat makes as he swallows.

“Good,” Victor says. “Another.”

Yuri’s eyes widen.

Victor puts his hands on the backs of his thighs.

Yuri swallows and refills his glass. Then he chugs, trying not to make a face. Brave boy.

“Excellent.”

Victor puts one hand on the back of his waist and pulls him forwards. With the tips of the fingers of the other, he starts pressing into his bulging belly again, moving all over. Yuri breathes heavily, trying to catch his breath after holding it so he can take in the entire glass.

It was good, that day in the bathroom—Yuri’s eyes red from the strain of trying to vomit, snot and tears leaking down his face—but this. And where it’s going, if Victor has any say in it.

This is so. much. better.

Victor smooths his palm over the extended belly.

“...what...” Yuri says in a small voice.

“It helps move things along,” Victor says, low in his throat, and looks up at his blushing cheeks. “Final glass.” And for this one, Victor’s hand will be right there, feeling Yuri’s belly grow.

“I can’t.” Yuri bends his head down, looking almost abashed at the possibility of disappointing Victor.

“You can.” Victor rubs. “I know you can. I’ve done it.” He presses.

Yuri leans into his touch. Good.

Victor keeps going.

“Can I take a break?” Yuri asks quietly.

“Better not,” Victor soothes. “It works better this way.” He reaches past Yuri to pour the rest of what’s in the pitcher into the glass. “You can do it,” he says with both hands on the sides of Yuri’s waist. “Come on.”

He puts one splayed hand on Yuri’s stomach. “Don’t pull it in. Relax into my hand… relax... There you go.”

Yuri takes a deep breath, trying to steel himself for his final glass. Victor can feel his belly press into his palm as Yuri releases it.

Yuri exhales choppily and starts drinking. His belly bobs a little under Victor’s hand every time he swallows. It’s so stretched out now, so firm, pushing forward, and as Yuri drinks, it swells even more.

Victor’s dick swells with it.

He’s not yet fully hard, but he likes it nonetheless. The warmth. The heaviness. The pressure.

“How does it feel?”

“It’s so… large. And… distended. And… awful.” Yuri tears off a loose piece of skin on his lip with his teeth. It must be so mortifying, Victor thinks. So vulnerable, to let someone see him and touch him like this.

“...and nice, how you hold it.” Yuri finishes quietly. “Even though it’s gross.”

“I like it,” Victor says simply, and cups it with both his palms.

Yuri moves closer, his eyes squeezed shut. “I like it, too.”

“Good,” Victor rumbles. “Good boy. Coming to me like I told you to. Drinking your entire pitcher.”

Yuri moans a little. Victor’s hands move on his belly: squeezing lightly, rubbing with the thumbs. Victor wonders if his dick is starting to fill up, too, in these baggy jeans of his. Briefly, he flirts with the thought of sliding one hand lower. Checking it out.

“Can I sit?” Yuri says. “It...”

“It’s better to stand up. Gravity helps it work.”

“How long?” Yuri says.

“Half an hour. An hour at most.” Victor says softly. “Here, you can stand next to me and we can watch TV. You can distract yourself.”

Yuri nods and moves a little to the side as Victor goes for the remote and starts flicking channels. “Anything in particular?”

“I don’t know.” Neither of them comments that the hand that’s not holding the remote is still around Yuri’s waist. “I don’t watch much TV. A crime drama, maybe?”

“Hmmm,” Victor says. He flicks the channels some more. “Relax,” he chides—because, on automatic, Yuri’s tensed up his belly again. And it’s nice, how it protrudes out when Yuri lets go. How his ass tilts up to compensate for the weight as it hangs. “Nice,” Victor praises. “Exactly like that.”

Victor moves his palm to the small of Yuri’s back, barely above the swell of his ass. It’s firm and bulging, too, from all the skating. It’s nice, almost touching it. The calm anticipation.

Some young girl is on the screen, blue and wrapped in plastic, as the forensic pathologist, in a hazmat suit, pokes around and explains his findings. Bulbs flash and make her look even paler. Crime photos.

At the back of his mind, Victor spins scenarios about what comes next. “Undo your belt,” he says absently, and Yuri does. It joins his sweatshirt on the floor. It will make things easier, Victor thinks, all things considered.

  


“Squeeze,” Victor says. “Keep it in.”

“Oh, God,” Yuri says as his belly convulses and his eyes widen.

“Go,” Victor points to the bathroom with his chin.

Yuri doesn’t even manage to close the door before his butt hits the toilet and a strong stream comes out, under pressure, with a low moan. From the couch, Victor listens as the stream peters out, and another follows. “Fuck,” Yuri sighs, relieved, once stream three is out.

Yuri comes back from the bathroom, pants abandoned, looking down. “Don’t worry about it,” Victor says, makes an educated guess based on his own experience and Yuri’s embarrassed expression. “We’ll do laundry after.”

Yuri doesn’t react—good. There’s a point beyond embarrassment, beyond humiliation, where you let go because it can’t get any worse, and Victor’s glad that Yuri’s gotten there.

Yuri’s looking kind of dazed and woozy, pliant. His belly is lower, but it still sticks out. There will be more later. Victor smiles a little. “Lie on the table,” he says. “On your elbows. I find I like it when the glass presses on it. It’s cool and hard. Quite nice.”

Yuri lets himself be guided, one of Victor’s hands on his shoulder. “Here,” Victor says. “Knees on the cushion… wait, here’s another one.” In short order, Yuri is arranged: a knee each on one of the cushions from the sofa, butt in the air, belly pressed into the table, head resting on his folded hands. His hair spills over the glass.

Victor sits opposite him on the sofa and strokes his back. Yuri breathes calmly, deeply. Blinks slowly as he watches Victor.

“How does it feel?” Victor says.

“Nice.” Yuri closes his eyes. “Tired.”

“Tell me more,” Victor says, low and throaty, as his hand keeps smoothing up and down Yuri’s back.

“It’s… I like it. The glass. It’s cold.” Yuri swallows. “And it feels… empty. Light. I like that.”

“Hmmm.”

“Also, I like it how my legs are spread and there’s cool air on my ass. And how it’s you,” he finishes quietly and closes his eyes again, relaxing under Victor’s touch.

“Do you want to?” Victor murmurs as his palm swipes lower, over the globes of Yuri’s ass. “I’ll take it slow.” His palm slides down the cracks, one finger dipping inbetween. “Gentle. I’ll stretch you really nice before I fuck you.” Yuri pushes his butt up into Victor’s hand. “I’ll pump you full,” he continues, “and then you’ll likely need to go again. There’s usually another time—fifteen, twenty minutes later.”

Head pillowed on his hands, eyes closed, Yuri gives the barest nod.

“Have you done this before?” Victor says.

“My own fingers,” Yuri mumbles, woozy and tired.

“So you like it?” Victor asks, hand still rubbing, slipping down over the backs of Yuri’s thigs, lingering at the folds where they meet his ass.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Victor says. “You’ll like this even more, then. Your ass will be so swollen… sensitive.” His hand swipes up and down, up and down, sinking Yuri in a meditative rhythm. “I’ll be right back. You stay exactly as you are.”

“Can you bring me some water?”

“Sure.”

Victor putters around the house. Water from the kitchen, Vaseline from the bathroom—where, indeed, Yuri’s jeans and boxers lie on a heap on the floor, soiled.

He comes back to the living room and sets up another cushion for himself, on the floor between Yuri’s spread legs, while Yuri drinks his water. He takes away the glass when Yuri’s done—one less thing for Yuri to mind—and settles on the floor, cross-legged.

In front of his nose, Yuri’s bare ass is a delight. A dusting of blond hair around his swollen pucker, spreading down his balls. Soft dick hanging down.

Victor dips his finger in the jelly and smirks. It won’t stay soft for long.

He is really, really gentle with the first glob—it’s so sensitive down there, after this abuse. He’s not pressing in yet, just rubbing at the pucker lightly. It’s puffy under his hand, and unbidden, Victor pictures it gaping and ready, Yuri curving his back as he pushes back on his cock. But all in due time, Victor thinks as he rubs. All in due time.

“Please,” Yuri moans into his hands.

Victor presses in, only barely, then again, and again. Steadily and lightly.

“Oh, God,” Yuri says to the glass, and his thighs tremble.

“Ready for more?”

“Yeah. God, yeah.”

“Good,” Victor says as he slides in to the second knuckle. “Very, very, good.” His other hand grabs at Yuri’s butt cheek, fingers digging in to help keep it spread.

Yuri bucks back.

“Shhh, relax. I’ll give you everything you need. Relax.”

Yuri moans and melts into the table.

Victor works his whole finger in, and wiggles to make space for the second one. There’s a little space around his finger as he works, now, and where his cock was half-full, heavy and waiting, during the rest of the night, it fills all the way out now. Victor _wants_. He will be inside that ass, soon, raw and ready for him, hot and open.

He digs in the jelly jar for another glob, which he spreads on Yuri cold.

He massages Yuri with the tips of two fingers, just to let him know what’s coming, then pushes them in. Yuri moans and spreads his legs a little wider.

“I want your dick, Victor please, I want your dick,” he mumbles, and Victor wishes he could see his face—how dazed and lost into the sensation he must be, blushing, hair stuck to his face.

“Soon,” Victor says and scissors his fingers.

“Please, I want it,” Yuri says from the table.

Victor groans, low and deep in his throat. “You’ve been such a good boy today,” he says as his fingers keep working. “You deserve all the dick. I’ll make you so full.”

Yuri moans.

“Scoot back a little.” Victor pulls on Yuri’s hips to help. “Can you reach your cock?”

An uncoordinated hand flops back. Victor guides it. “Good.” Once it’s there, Yuri will know what to do.

Victor takes out a third glob of jelly. Spreads it on his own dick as he lowers himself over Yuri’s back. He lines himself up, rubs Yuri’s ass with his dick a couple of times to find the best spot-

“Victor, stop-”

“You good?”

“Yeah.” Yuri pants. “Just… just not yet. I really like it when you rub me with the head of your cock.”

“Like this?” says Victor as his eyes roll to the back of his head, because _honestly._ He wants inside that ass yesterday.

“Yeah… oh, it’s so nice. Can you do it while there’s a finger in?”

Yes, yes he can rub Yuri’s asshole with the head of his cock while there’s a finger in—it’s just his luck that Yuri will turn out to be a demanding little shit.

“Oh,” Yuri gasps and presses back. “I like it so much. I’m so glad it’ll be you.”

Victor is so glad it will be him, too. Sweet, tight, hot, virgin ass—mine, Victor thinks as he starts to press in. This time, there’s no protests.

“Bear down,” he says and sinks all the way in, collapsing over Yuri’s back. From where he is, he can see Yuri’s face, now—eyes closed, lips parted in a wordless “Oh.”

“Breathe,” Victor says.

Yuri does.

Victor props himself on one hand and smooths his hair away from his face with the other. “You ready?” he murmurs into his ear.

“Been ready since I turned twelve and I figured what my dick was for.” Yuri rumbles.

Victor chuckles. “Good.”

He starts out slow and shallow, then gradually pulls out further and further before sliding back in. It’s wonderful—Yuri’s ass around him. “What does it feel like?” he asks. “Does it feel good?”

“Like my ass is so full,” Yuri says. “Like before, when all the water was in, but different. Your cock is so big. It’s so stretched out. And then I’ll be all full of your come...”

Victor pets his hair as he fucks him, slow. Bless the kid—he’s cottoned on that Victor likes the descriptions. In detail.

“You know what I like?” Victor says as he pants. “Pulling all the way out,” he says as he does, “and then feeling your ass open for me, stretch around me, let me in. Every. Time.”

Yuri moans.

“Fuck,” Victor says, because out of everything, it conveys his feelings best.

“I want to jerk myself off.”

“Yeah… yeah, go for it,” Victor says and slams in a little harder now. Yuri pushes his ass up and out to meet him as he rubs his own dick, and Victor can’t think any more—he thrusts in, hard and fast, their hips slapping into each other. Yuri keens as he finishes himself off, ass working around Victor’s dick and fuck, it is so, so, wonderful, Victor thinks as he comes inside Yuri with a grunt—comes deep, as deep as he can get it; works it in with the last couple of thrusts he’s got in him before his cock softens.

They both breathe, heavy. “This was the best,” Yuri says groggily from under him. “Fuck.”

“A-a.” Victor murmurs into his sweaty hair. He sighs deeply as he pulls his softening dick out of Yuri’s ass—Yuri whines in protest. Well, if the kid likes his ass full _that_ much…

“Move it. To the couch,” Victor says and prods him lightly.

“Hnnn.”

“Come on,” Victor says as he sprawls back—finally, some rest—and opens his arms.

Groggy and uncoordinated, Yuri stumbles up and onto his lap.

Victor holds him close to his chest. “You doing good?” He says as he brushes the lower part of Yuri’s belly with a finger.

“Yeah… fuck, you come is leaking out of my ass and I— fuck.” Yuri says as he gets up and pads in the direction of the bathroom.

“This is gross,” he says with the door open—Victor assumes he must be looking at his pants—as another stream of water hits the porcelain as it jets out of his ass.

“We’ll do laundry,” Victor says with an “I can’t be arsed” tone from the couch.

“Still. I liked it.” Yuri says as he flushes the toilet and pads back.

“And now your come is all out,” he says coyly as he settles back into Victor's lap.

Easily remedied, Victor thinks, and kisses Yuri's forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote it, but you read it, so. When you get to Hell, ask for my table; I've got a reservation.
> 
> Orphaned because it's not like it's hard to figure out who this is; I'd just like to keep at least the veneer of plausible deniability.
> 
> If you spot typos, etcetera, sorry. Once this is orphaned, it can't be edited, so apologies for any crap [hee~] that remains.


End file.
